Sidewalk Blues
by mediaqueen90
Summary: He sat on the sidewalk, too dizzy to stand up, too dizzy to lie down. All he knew was that with the pounding in his head, he could very well end up in a worse position. ! First story in a few years, tell me what you think! Will only continue should you so wish it.
1. He Sat on the Sidewalk

He sat on the sidewalk, too dizzy to stand up, too dizzy to lie down. All he knew was that with the pounding in his head, if he moved too far from this sitting position with his knees tucked up, his forehead resting on them and his hand cradling the back of his head, he could very well end up in a worse position.

A sharp spike of pain pierced his skull and as he sucked in a breath, crunching already pre-crunched ribs, his vision greyed out and he miraculously passed out in that position, as comfortable as a cat on a leash.

~!~

Sam did not like getting calls in the middle of the night. While he was sleeping. From _Her._

So when his phone rang fifteen times in 10 minutes and Sam Axe had given up all hope of sleeping he picked up the phone.

And now he was here, sitting in his car on the sidewalk watching a furious glare from the living room window of the house he was parked in front of and staring pitifully at the huddle on the kerb. _Mikey! _Sam thought, _What the hell are you doin' here?_

He posed a mental question that was asked not five seconds later as he tried to rouse his friend from consciousness.

"Mikey, did you use your spy gear to find her? Did you go on a bender?" Sam used his best Stern Uncle voice. It wasn't working because sympathy filtered through.

Michael Westen groaned into his knees when he tried to shake his head. He didn't realise that his hand had glued itself to his head with a dodgy glue that crackled when his fingers moved.

"What country am I in?" he asked, finally.

Sam glared at his friend, annoyed. "What do you mean 'what country'? Mikey, you're on the sidewalk of Fiona's new house in Miami."

Despite the ache, Michael's head popped up. "Fi? Where is she?" he tried to look around but pain got the better of him and he, again, groaned into his knees.

As Michael groaned through his pain, a curious thought dawned on Sam. "Mikey… do you know how you ended up here?"

A soft "No" wound its way from the spy's knees.

"Ohh great." Sam immediately started examining his friend. Using the light from his phone made it a bit difficult, especially with the uncooperative patient, but he did discover something startling… Michael's hand was glued to the back of his head by _blood.___"What on Earth did you get yourself into Mikey…" he whispered to himself. He then looked up at the living room window, which had just had a curtain shift close. Then open again. Then close once more before the porch light turned on.

Fiona Glennan, pretty pissed and mildly concerned, stood in the doorway, one hand on her hip, lips in a pout. "How bad?" she called out.

"Bad enough that is takes two to move him".

The Irish woman rolled her eyes. "_Fine"._

While she disappeared inside to find shoes, Sam tried to move Michael. "C'mon mikey, we gotta get up now…" he half pleaded with friend.

The bad part was though, if Michael moved his head, his stomach might not stay down. "Can't Sam".

"Mikey. Come. On."

Sam started to pull Michael up.

"Sam – No!" Before Michael could protest anymore, he was standing, leaning on Sam. Who just got showered in bile. Or at least his shirt did. He grinned goofily at Sam. "Ssssorry"

"Jeez Mike, you couldn't hold it?"

By now Fiona had made her way outside to the out-of-sorts duo. She regarded Sam with a look of disgust and a look of disdain at Michael. "Enough dilly dallying boys, lets just get inside".

And with that She scooped the other side of Michael onto her should and they made an awkward trip inside.

~!~

Moving hadn't been fun for Michael. He was dizzy and felt sicker than before, but he didn't want to repeat his episode with Sam so he kept quiet. Once they reached inside, Sam gently eased Michael onto the sofa. Fiona just let go of the other side and Michael half fell down, landing on his already punished ribs.

Then he passed out.

This time Sam was the one glaring at Fiona.


	2. Flesh Out

_Hi guys, Wow thanks for the reviews! And thanks for your patience with the story too. I've recently finished university and I have not written a story like this since before I started uni. To answer those who asked. Yes, it is canon. I didn't think to put it in the abstract at the time. Also please excuse any grammar or shortness of sentences/chapters. I've never been a fan of longwinded chapters (ie. That's me writing them) and with a 8 month old puppy to talk to, it's a bit hard). Also, sometime I write chapters in the heat of the moment with whatever is in my head. So it doesn't always come clearly._

_Also, I am moving from a part-time position to a new full-time position working six days a week so I may not be able to write for a while, while I adjust (Won't happen for a month or so though)_

_Keep reviewing! Xoxoxo Media Queen_

Chapter Two: Flesh Out.

"Fi! What the hell d'you do that for!" Sam ground out.

"What the hell is _he_ doing here Sam? You promised me you would not tell him where I was. You also said you'd make sure that he wouldn't use his spy gear to find me!" Fiona bit back.

They were both standing over the still unconscious Michael, who was at this present time, slumped half on the couch, half on the floor thanks to Fiona's ungrateful dropping.

"I _don't know,_ Fiona, and I'm pretty sure _he doesn't either_". Sam paused for a moment, letting that sink in. He knew - no matter how much Fiona was pissed at Michael for getting back into the CIA for her freedom - that somewhere in her ice cold Irish heart was still that spark that stayed ignited for Michael. His instinct worked because her features changed from tight and annoyed to relaxed; laced with concern. She silently flicked the living room light on, before retrieving her First Aid Kit from the closet.

They wrestled Michael onto the sofa fully and Sam gently peeled the worn button up shirt away to reveal something neither expected.

What got Sam was the Michael's chest was covered in bruises that were colours of the rainbow. What got Fiona was a lot of new scars she had not seen before. One particular nasty one along his hip looked like he'd been stabbed.

It had been six months since Fiona had last seen Michael in that hanger. She had assumed that his position in the CIA would mean that he would be more careful. Either he'd been in some nasty situations, or he'd been careless, or both. Fiona didn't want to think about it.

"Oh God Sam," She whispered. "Did you know about these?"

Sam, who'd started examining Michael, tried to avoid eye contact. "Some, yeah. The one on his shoulder he got taking down a Somali pirate who'd taken a young family hostage. There's one on his back from a graze from an Argentinian drug lord's gun. He camped in the jungle three days I think with only a newbie for help. The kid had to debride it because they'd lost their med kits in the raid."

"What about this one?" Fiona's fingers dusted lightly across the scar on Michael's hip. She felt the sharp ridge. It was a recent one.

The ex-Navy SEAL stood up and brushed a hand through his hair, hiding a yawn. "I dunno Fi, but all I know is that this one is bad. I felt his ribs… and well on the left side where the bruising is… I can't really feel ribs. And his head's pretty bad Fi…." Sam tapered off, for once, not quite sure what to do. He'd always looked after his wounded. "Can we call Campbell?"

Fiona shook her head, brunette pony tail flipping with the motion. "No. He hasn't spoken to me or answered my calls since you got shot."

"Well… I'm gonna have to move the car closer…" Sam headed towards the door and before Fiona could ask why Sam said "We're gonna have to take him to the ER Fi."

~!~

**Twenty Four Hours Earlier**

Michael was in Venezuela. Not in Caracas, but in the jungle, looking for an American who sold secrets to the Koreans for _rice_. Who sells secrets for rice? Sex – only if you're desperate or shallow. But Rice? That was a new one for Michael.

However, he didn't question it. At the moment he didn't really care what happened to him. All he could think about was how he broke his promise to Fiona and her heart. All he wanted was a hot shower and a good night's sleep because sleeping on the floor of the jungle with three other operatives, that you barely know, was not the best camping trip in the world. He was the only one awake, though because he was continuously going over his plan in his mind.

Before he left civilisation, he couldn't ask Jesse for help. He was in Mumbai, helping Dani move back stateside (another bargaining tool he'd used). And Sam was on a trip with Elsa and had purposely left his cell at her apartment. And Fiona… well Michael had honoured her wish of not wanting to be found. Sam had told him her wish about a month after the hanger and as much as it pained him, Michael knew he was right.

So, in the end, the only people that had heard the plan were three other operatives he didn't know anything about (because the CIA likes to screw with you like that sometimes) and that made him more than uneasy. Nevertheless, it was less than an hour to strike and Michael had to wake his colleagues.

~!~

**Present**

Fiona didn't like what the doctor said. Three broken ribs, a deep laceration to the skull, severe concussion and a twisted knee were what ailed the unconscious man. She hated to admit it but he looked so small and so – well – breakable, lying in the hospital bed. She sat beside him, her emotions in turmoil. Should she be angry at him? Annoyed but concerned? Or just plain concerned? All anger forgotten? It was driving her crazy and she just needed to get out.

She kissed her index and middle fingers to her lips before dancing them on Michael's forehead lightly. A silent promise to not leave him for too long.

Everyone knew that Michael only cooperated if it was Fiona or Madeline with him, in his unconscious state, and Sam didn't want to wake the widow. She had also taken Michael's departure hard.

One last glance at Michael and Fiona shuffled into the hallway.


	3. Memories

_Hi guys, sorry for the long update. In the days since the last one, I have actually been offered a new job (which builds on what career I want for myself… WIN), graduated University and found a new motivation to train for my black belt in Zen Do Kai._

_Because I felt guilty for not giving you a chapter soon enough, this is a quick type. All errors and abruptness of it is fault of my own. It will and does get better._

_Also at the end, the language is Korean. I will tell you what it says at the bottom (great way to make you stay huh :p)._

_Anywho, I love your reviews, so keep feeding me them or the idea monster dies and so does this story. MQ_

Chapter Three: Memories

Sam watched Fiona leave from a distance, giving the woman some space. Fiona tended to get violent when she was distraught and Sam figured he wouldn't risk it.

Instead he went into the private hospital room, where the lights were off and the only light was a peek of early dawn filtering through the windows.

He would call Madeline soon. Not yet. Not until Fiona got together. But for now… he would wait.

~!~

Fiona didn't notice Sam as she entered the hall. She just needed to get out of the hospital as quick as possible. She thought seeing Michael in a coma while he recovered from his shoulder wound was bad, but somehow this hit her harder.

A sense of guilt was welling inside her. Something saying in her brain _You could have stopped this_.

For once Fiona was at a loss for her emotions. She felt numb. At least when Michael had been shot, she could direct her anger to Jesse and Barrett and his men, and ultimately, Vaughn. But now that that whole situation was over and everyone was just citizens (or, in Michael's case, a _super_citizen) again, she didn't know how to react. The guilt began to bubble to the surface and she hid in a corridor near a fire exit, as she couldn't contain it anymore. He grief overwhelmed her and she sobbed quietly, outside.

She felt so… so _confused_. And she didn't like confused. But she didn't like seeing Michael hurt (or at least, not _knowing_ why he was hurt) and that gave her new resolve. Fiona stood up and straightened herself before marching back into the hospital and towards Michael's Ward.

~!~

He noticed at first the beeping and buzzing around him. Sleep was usually hard to come by, so when he realised he was sleeping pretty well, he got annoyed at the sounds. Eventually a crunching sound entered his hearing, annoying him even more. _The Jungle_ he thought. _I'm still in Venezuela then._ A jungle hospital, maybe? A rebel group friendly to the CIA? Many conclusions crossed his mind, but when a waft of jasmine filtered through his heightened senses, he realised that something was wrong. Really wrong.

After his initial senses became alert, he began to take stock of the other senses. Like the throbbing in his head. Or the dull ache of his ribs. Or the fact he couldn't move his right leg.

Sam however, who was crunching on crisps and able to use both legs, looked up when Michael almost sprung out of bed, before collapsing back down in agony.

"Arrghh, what's going ooon" Michael ground out. He squinted against the morning light that was streaming through.

"You tell me Mikey." Sam continued to crunch on his crisps. He wasn't acting nonchalant for any reason other than he was Sam, King of Cool.

As the reaction the senses eased, Michael took stock of where he was and memories started to rush back. A little too fast, because he put a hand to his head.

Sam pressed the call button and while they waited for a nurse to come, he helped Michael collect himself.

"Sam, what have I done? I don't know how I got to Miami!"

~!~

**Ten hours Earlier. Venezuela.**

The extraction, itself, had gone well. The target was surprisingly co-operative, muttering something about how there wasn't enough rice owed, or they forgot the sushi vinegar or soy sauce. Michael didn't really pay attention. The team worked well and Michael was relieved.

But once they had gotten back to base in Caracas, that's when things had changed.

Like the fact that the team had left Michael alone with the target. Or the fact that only one of them was meant to be getting food. Not all three. Or the fact that an hour after they left the safe house was stormed with uniformed men who believed quantity was needed for the extraction.

In a flurry of activity, Michael and the target were both scooped up (with complimentary head bags of course) and shoved into the back of a jeep and taken to an airport hanger (_why do the bad guys always frequent hangers?_ Michael asked himself).

That's where it got interesting.

Now Michael and the target were alone in a hot room in the hanger and the target was complaining about the heat.

"Oh Goood its so hot in here!" he whined.

Michael rolled his eyes. This was going to be painful. However, to make sure the target was going to cooperate further once stateside Michael took on the tone of the impatient teacher. "Just relax and take a deep breath. It's going to be ok."

"OK?" Mr Whinger shrieked. "This is _far_ from OK. The North Koreans are here and they are brutal man. Brutal." This pale faced, dark haired skinny man liked the dramatic over exaggeration of situations. According to him, everything these people did was brutal.

Before Michael had a chance to respond the door opened and the visitor pointed at Michael.

당신은 환영하지 않습니다.

~!~

_A/N: It says You are not welcome here. Put it into Google Translate if you don't believe me._

_A/NN: Also, yes I know Fi is a little AU in this instalment but sometimes it's a bit hard to gauge her feelings or why she is having them. I did my best to interpret how she would handle the situation.._

_Remember… Reviews = Food = Feed Idea Monster = Chapters… No Reviews = No Food = Idea Monster goes hungry, withers away and tries to give up with a fight but fails and eventually disappears to not be touched for five years = no more story and a sad writer._

_Also… I know I'm not perfect. Especially with certain periods of writing. And Guest Reviewers… I know you may not have time to respond as a logged in writer, but please come back and read often!_


	4. The Loft: Part One

_Hi again! And thanks for feeding the monster (insert smiley face here). This instalment is a little emotion heavy, not something I always do, but this chapter needed to happen. I was going to write more but that might have to become another chapter. I don't mind long chapters, but I know when they need to be ended and this one found its ending. (don't worry the story isn't over yet)._

_Remember… Feed the monster. MQ_

Chapter Four: The Loft, Part One.

**Venezuela (I think)**

Michael, Ironically wasn't required to learn a lot of Korean for this extraction specifically due to the fact that the target was American. Knowing things could go wrong in a pinch, however, he did scan a brief phrase book so he could at understand what was going on.

And well… he didn't like what he was hearing. The North Koreans were not known for their hospitality, so when a piece of 2x4 lumber collided with his knee, he knew his stay was going to be short. And when that lumber collided with his knee, Michael did everything he could to avoid crying out. He would not show weakness. But when that same piece collided with his ribs, not once but thrice, he threw that rule out the window and cried out louder than ever. Using a few expletives. Like Fuck. And Shit. And maybe the C Word (that the Author won't actually write).

By now, his vision was swimming and both breathing and escape was becoming impossible. He tried to get a good look at his attackers' but the lumber smacked across the back of his head and his vision greyed out.

~!~

**Present**

When Madeline came in to see her son, he'd been asleep since his first communication with Sam, earlier in the morning. The doctors' had upped his medication, because with the way his chest and knee were, it was likely that he would need to be further sedated if things didn't improve.

So here was Madeline, sitting by her son's side, flicking through the most recent tabloid. She had sent Sam and Fiona home to clean themselves up. Both had been up since god knows when, and Sam… well he reeked a little.

Michael shifted a small bit in his sleep, most likely caught in bad dream, and gasped without waking up when his hand that was covered in hospital gadgets bumped his ribs. Madeline put down the magazine and went to hold Michael's good hand.

"Shhh baby, it's ok" Madeline smiled sadly as she flicked a piece of hair out of his eyes.

"His hair is getting too long again." The female Irish brogue sounded behind Madeline. "Maybe we should cut it while he's sleeping".

Fiona came to stand on the other side of Michael, unable to hide her concern. She rested her hand on his good leg and he stilled in his sleep. If it surprised Madeline, she didn't say anything. "No, I like it long. It reminds me of when he was a boy. Frank used to hate it, but I think it made him look like he still had some of his child hood innocence left." She laughed softly, before placing her lips to Michael's forehead.

She hadn't actually had much of a chance to talk to Fiona since arriving at the hospital. And well. Now was a good time.

"I thought you didn't want to see him anymore." Madeline was direct. She wasn't going to dilly dally about. She only had one son now, and her grandson needed his uncle.

Fiona sighed and pulled up a chair on the other side. "I didn't, no. But not anymore. I don't know whether it was that I overreacted or whatever, but I can't help but think that some of this is my fault."

Madeline rolled her eyes. "No way in Hell is this your fault, Fiona. Don't pull the blame game. It's not fun and it gets you nowhere. If you and Michael were still together, he would still have gone on this mission. Probably would have still gotten hurt."

"You can see his body right now, can't you? He has scars that were not there six months ago! God only knows what situations he's put himself in. Before… he would be adamant that Sam and I come. He needed someone that he could trust. Someone that could be that little voice in his ear telling him whether he should stick to the plan or not –"

"He's rebuilt the loft you know." Madeline interjected. She needed to get Fiona's mind away from the bad things. "He bought the block off Oleg and rebuilt the loft and the night club. Michael doesn't ask for rent or anything because of what he did as a tenant."

Fiona stuttered to silence. "R-really?"

"Everything is exactly as it was. Almost to the snow globe. He's still looking for one." Madeline let it sink in. "He doesn't stay there though. I don't think he likes that he's the only one there."

"B-but where is he staying then?"

"With me. In his old room." Madeline stopped when a nurse came in to check on Michael. Neither woman continued talking until the nurse left. "What you said to him almost killed him Fiona. Not literally, it's like he a fricken cat with nine lives, but he changed Fiona. I've never seen him so emotional in his life." Madeline stopped again. After a while, with her eyes on Michael, Madeline finished "I don't blame you for it though. Nor does Michael. It gave him the good kick in the pants that he needed."

By the end of Madeline's speech Fiona had tears silently rolling down her face. She felt guilty for not asking Sam or Madeline how Michael was. When she had made that declaration in the hanger. She was angry. She had thought that he'd betrayed her trust yet again. She didn't think – even in the days after – that maybe she had overreacted. She was one of the only people to see Michael at his rawest. She'd seen him crying in the shower when Andre had died. She'd consoled him when Nate had died. Fiona didn't see until now that Michael did everything for his family, and he was deeply effected when he failed.

Madeline came around to Fiona's side and engulfed her in a motherly hug. The women shed their tears silently, neither not taking an eye of the man in the bed who'd brought them together. Who'd created his own version of a family.

One that everyone had taken for granted.


	5. CIA Blues

_Wow, look at you lucky ducks. A double chapter. I must have had the mojo today. If it needs tweaking a little let me know, But I'll see how we go. MQ_

Chapter Five: CIA Blues.

**Present. Sam's Apartment.**

Elsa was busy with some big spending clients when Sam arrived home. He was a tad disappointed yes, but he was tired and desperately needed a shower.

After he freshened himself up, Michael's predicament became his priority. He placed a few well known calls and within minutes was talking to the man that had given Michael his assignment. That man didn't even know Michael was the US. He did debrief Sam, after some idle threats about possible terrorists getting through security becoming public, and confirmed details Sam really did not want to know.

The CIA had managed to seize the target back from the North Korean's. And one of the three men in Michael's team was being disciplined for terrorist like behaviour. Such as letting slip information about the target's whereabouts to an Asian looking boy for a payment of rice.

Michael had been moved by the time the new extraction team had moved in and the target had only been stateside for a few short hours.

And Sam was going to talk with him.

~!~

**Present. Hospital.**

Fiona had gone to finish up a big arms deal that she had been wrangling for months by the time Michael had woken up.

Madeline was sitting quietly when he groaned, alarming her slightly. She sat forward and looked into his bright eyes. "Hey sweetie" she said softly, her small hand cupping his cheek.

His voice raw from sleep, he asked "Ma? What're you doin' here?" he tried to clear his throat, but it wouldn't work so Madeline put a cup of cold water to his lips and helped him sip. He supported the base with a shaky hand. After drinking enough to rehydrate himself he asked "Was Fiona here?"

"Yes she was, honey."

Michael tried to push himself up further, but gave up that thought when he pulled on his ribs and failed to hide a grimace from his mother. "Why?" he asked, panting. At the moment, he decided he would give up on all movement. He just hurt too much.

"Because she cares about you."

"No she doesn't."

"Yes she does, Michael. Just like you care about her." Madeline glared at her son. She could not believe that he could still be stubborn with the state he was in.

"I thought she never wanted to see me again, Ma." In Michael's weakened state he could not help but get worked up. "I broke too many promises to her. I did so many things wrong. I threw it away. I threw _her _away."

Later on, Michael would blame his emotions on the medication. But for now he just broke down in his mother's arms. Emotions that had been bottled up for six months, finally reaching their breaking point and pouring out.

"I love her, Ma, and I threw her away." He sobbed. Madeline stroked his hair, hushing him. Eventually he fell asleep again, emotions exhausting him much more than his injuries.

~!~

Fiona watched from the hallway, not knowing what to do. She'd never really cared what her decisions did to those she left behind. But now, she'd seen more than she'd bargained for. Before she could slip into the busy-ness of the hospital and melt away, she received a text message from Sam: got a suspect. Meet me at Miami CIA Liason Office.

**Liason Office.**

Fiona tapped her heel impatiently, while waiting outside on the steps to the Liason office. Sam was meant to be here ten minutes ago, and she was getting impatient.

That and her dress was starting to annoy her.

A tap on her shoulder almost sent her into a frenzy but the "Whoa, easy sister" calmed her reaction. Sam stood behind her, a folder in his hands.

"What are we doing here Sam." Fiona still didn't like authority, or being near its physical presence. So she was getting uncomfortable. Especially considering her car held a lot of guns and money right now.

Sam tapped the folder. "After some… negotiating, the CIA are letting us interrogate Michael's target and a couple of unfriendlies before they do." He opened the folder. "Peter Schwarmer. Computer Geek for a Government department specialising in things that go boom. He gets to see a lot of things he shouldn't. Apparently he's not that smart though because he made a deal with the North Koreans to give them information for a butt-load of rice –"

"Rice?"

"Yeah I know let's not dwell on it." Sam flipped the page over. "Brandon Dunce. CIA Operative. Spent six to twelve months in North Korea. Again. Flipped for rice. The real reason Mikey is where he is. And this guy –" Sam flipped to the last page. A chubby looking Asian man stared back. "Sun Kim Un. A North Korean spy stationed in Venezuela. Works as point for the guys back home. Has a nice little drug ring in Venezuela too, we found out. Because he sends all the money back to the NK." He paused. Sam could see the emotions broiling in Fiona. "We only get to interview the first one. The other two we can watch from the mirrored glass." They had actually been offered to interview all of them, but Sam thought against it. The North Korean wouldn't be much use to them. He beat Michael, that's about it. And Sam knew if he and Fiona were in the same room as Dunce that he would not be alive by the end of it.

"C'mon lets go in."

~!~

"So what happened after the CIA guy got knocked out?" Sam asked. He was warily eyeing Fiona as she cleaned her nails with her pocket knife extremely close to the kid's head.

Schwarmer watched her uncomfortably, scared by the beautiful but violent woman. She just smiled at him sweetly. "Are you going to answer the question?"

"Uh-buh-uh, he just stayed there unconscious. They were organising transport for him somewhere, and then this guy came and shoved a needle in his arm. The CIA guy was almost awake again too, because he swore a fair bit before passing out from the drugs. That's all I know. I swear –"

"No it isn't." Fiona said again. Her pleasant disposition was really beginning to unnerve the kid.

"Alright! Alright. The bad CIA guy came in and said that they needed to dump your guy somewhere. One of the NK's said where and the CIA bad guy, said why not Miami? That's where he's from." He took an unsteady deep breath. "That's all I really know."

Sam looked across the table to Fiona. "You satisfied, Fi?" she put the knife away.

"Very much so, Sam." The pair stood up to leave. Sam went out first, but when Fiona got to the door, she turned back. "Next time, Peter, if you're going to betray your country do it for something more than rice. It's not a currency and you can get sick of it pretty quickly."

~!~

Listening to Dunce was the hardest thing in the world for Fiona. His slimy, greasy features just did not appeal to her good nature and keeping her Walther in her bag was becoming very hard for her.

Sam had ordered she stay in the observation room with the younger CIA operative, while Sam and the lead agent talked to Dunce.

"So Brandon," Sam asked after CIA guy had finished. "How did you know where to drop Agent Westen off. Surely it was not coincidental that you told the Koreans to leave him in front of his ex-girlfriend's house."

Dunce smirked. "I thought it would be a nice kick in the pants for the guy. I read his file. I knew he was only working for the CIA as a penance for killing a couple of big guys. He was a bit of a sook. Didn't wanna get involved much."

It took Sam a lot of personal self-restraint to hear this piece of dirt talk about Michael in that way.

"Doesn't tell me how you know where her house was."

"He told me."

"No he didn't"

"Uh – yes he did." Sam wanted to wipe the smirk of this guys face. Instead he grabbed his collar and pulled him forward.

"No he damn well didn't you piece of slime. Michael has not known anuthing about Miss Glennane's whereabouts for nearly six goddamn bloody months. So to tell me that Michael told you is a nail in your coffin buddy. How long had you been planning this for?"

Sam threw the guy back and straightened himself. He turned to the lead agent. "Sorry about that."

The lead agent smiled. "I didn't see anything."

"I didn't plan anything, you fat idiot." Slimeball spat back. "All I did was use the Intranet and a few databases."

Sam smiled.

Then he punched the guy in the nose. "Thanks for your co-operation. The next time I see your face anywhere Michael or Fiona I'm going to rip your balls off and feed them to you. Rocky Mountain Oyster style."

~!~

Fiona was waiting for him in the hallway when Sam walked out. "Has my home been compromised?" she asked. She was itching to punch someone but Sam had done a decent job on Dunce already.

"If you mean, lay low somewhere else for a couple of days, Yeah. I can ask Elsa to arrange a suite for you."

Fiona smiled. "No, I'm right Sam. I've got somewhere to stay."

~!~

_A/N: okay, so Rocky Mountain Oysters (for those who don't know) are essentially stewed bull's testicles. It's actually found in some places in Australia, but I don't know if it's found anywhere else in the world._


	6. The Loft: Part Two

_Oooh you guys are even luckier ducks… third chapter today :D_

Chapter Six: The Loft P2. (a.k.a. The Reunion)

Fiona arrived at Michael's loft to find that it looked almost exactly the same. The only real difference was the new windows, the new coat of paint and no fireball pouring out of it. Oleg, let her into the fenced yard which still housed the Charger, being restored, again, back to her former glory.

She walked up the new stair case to the door - A painted steel reinforced one – and for curiosity and habitual reasons, tried to insert her key into the lock.

Not surprisingly it didn't work, but her lock pick set did.

She gasped when the door swung open.

Madeline was right. Everything was exactly how it was. But … Tidier.

There was still the clutter of spy devices and weapons on the counters. The punching bag was still mounted under the stairs and the tool box was still by the door.

Even the snow globes were back. Fiona stumbled in awe over to her rebuilt collection. It was almost exactly the same. All of the locations were right. A couple looked a bit different – probably supplier issues – but it was still the same sort of perfect that Fiona had for her collection for herself. Michael had put a plaque under each snow globe and there were three empty spaces where the ones' she had saved were meant to sit. The only other one missing was Dublin. Instead there was a sticky note there. _Organise so Fi can have safe passage to Ireland._

Fiona almost broke down when she read the note. He was going to arrange so she could go back home? See her family safely? Oh goodness, he was definitely paying a penance. But not for Card's death. For losing Fiona.

She dropped her overnight bag to the floor and ran out of the loft.

~!~

Michael had awoken again and was eating a coloured watery thing the hospital called tomato soup very slowly. His mother had gone to the cafeteria to find something a bit more edible for Michael and herself, leaving him alone in his room with reruns of Oprah and a tabloid magazine with some big shot celebrity on the cover. He was going to attempt to stomach his third spoonful of the concoction when Fiona flew in the doorway.

Michael dropped the spoon back into the bowl in awe. "F-Fi?" he stuttered.

"Oh, Michael!" Fiona pushed the tray to the side and embraced Michael in a big hug before pulling him back to kiss him softly.

Surprised at First, Michael didn't know how to react but he melted into it, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer to him. He'd missed her touch, her scent, her presence. And he'd more than realised it. He pulled away and pulled her into a tighter hug, burying his face into her shoulder. He didn't care right now that her knee was in his ribs, or that she was resting on his sore leg. He just held her there while trying to hold his emotions in check.

After a while Fiona pulled back. "Oh Michael, I'm so sorry for what I said that day." Tears rolled down her cheeks and Michael pulled her back to him.

"It's ok Fi. It's ok." He whispered in her hair.

Eventually they had shifted into a more comfortable position (that didn't involve Michael being in more pain than he needed) and had fallen asleep, Fiona nestled into Michael's arms.

~!~

Madeline was standing in the doorway to Michael's room when Sam finally made it back to the hospital in the late afternoon.

"Hey Maddy –" Madeline silenced him with a motion and pointed inside.

Fiona was curled into Michael's side, one arm protectively across his chest, as if she were shielding him from anything that would come their way.

Sam looked at Madeline. Not one day ago they were not talking to each other. "What the hell happened?"

Madeline smiled knowingly. "The Loft."


	7. Back To Normal

Chapter Seven: Back to Normal (with a Hint of Mint and a Twist of Lemon)

"C'mon Michael, Just Breathe!"

Michael shot a sharp glance to Fiona from between his knees as he heaved, unable to breathe, screamed _what the hell do you think I'm doing?_

Michael was currently sitting on the kerb of another colourful part of Miami, next to Fiona's car, struggling to swallow oxygen. He was cradling his ribs and growing paler by the second. Sam finally arrived from his vantage point to the couple, gently depositing his sniper rifle onto the spoiler of the hatch.

"What's going on?" Concern failed to remain hidden in his voice as he crouched next to Michael. The duo glared at the new arrival. Fiona was going to answer but Michael wheezing got sharper and he clumsily grabbed at Fiona's arm. His vision was starting to grey out and he, at first, couldn't hear Fiona and Sam calling to him. Couldn't hear Fiona coach his breathing.

"Inhale…. Think about your breathing… and push out". She glanced up at Sam and motioned her head towards the front of the car. The Ex-SEAL took the hint and began rummaging. Had Michael been in a better state of mind he would have noticed that in another Life Fiona could have been a yoga instructor.

But no – he had to breathe first – "Fi-" Michael choked out. He was losing focus and was struggling to make eye contact. All he could do was clutch Fiona as he tried to expand his lungs. "Fi!"

"Got it!" Sam cried as he held the purple contraption along with the clear double ended cone and plugged them together. Fiona snatched the object and manipulated Michael's grip so she was holding the contraption for him and rubbing his back. Supporting the item, Sam pressed the inhaler and spacer into Michael's lips and squirted once, waiting for the medicine to dissipate before squirting again.

Michael's doctor had given the inhaler to him, just as a precaution, for use before he went to bed, but at the moment it seemed to do its job and steadied the younger man's breathing. Michael collapsed back into Fiona, sweating heavily, pale but breathing a lot steadier.

The Irish woman used the head scarf to dry his face and neck while Sam fetched Michael's crutches from the small car. Despite attempting to avoid it, Michael was still up to his third cast in double as many weeks. But for now the focus was getting Michael home.

~!~

The trio drove to Madeline's house in silence, Michael resting his leg on the seat and head against the window in the back, eyes closed as colour crept its way back into his features. Sam was texting Elsa, letting her know that everything was ok.

Fiona… Fiona was blaming herself for Michael's current state.

The couple had only been talking again for a little over two months, but the news of their split had run through the gun community, making a lot of deals hard for Fiona.

The current deal proved to be the same.

While she, herself, had a reputation that preceded her – specifically for spontaneous violence – the presence of her bomb happy boyfriend? Lover? Partner? Made things got a lot more smoothly. The buyer had sent his heavies (who were fond of neither Fiona nor Michael) whom had in their head that after money exchanged hands that Michael in his current state would be an easy target.

Michael had fought well, however, and managed to disarm the larger one with a swift elbow to the temple while the smaller one snuck an upper cut to the ribs (conveniently – the _injured ribs_) before a leg kick to Michael's injured knee. Fiona had tazed the smaller heavy while Sam skittled the others with well-placed high calibre round. Michael ended up on all fours, unable to breathe.

Because of Fiona.

~!~

"What on Earth happened?" Madeline cried as Fiona and Sam helped Michael hop out of the car and into his mother's house.

"I'm fine, mom, really," Michael winced as Sam accidentally bumped him. Madeline dashed to the lounge and cleared off one of the sofas, which Michael sank gratefully into some moments later. Charlie, now nearly two, toddled out and ran to his favourite uncle, Michael holding back a grunt as the youth thumped his chest.

Madeline made eyes with Fiona and Sam and motioned towards the kitchen.

"What on Earth happened to my son!?"

"Well, see here, Maddy…" Sam began. Fiona tuned out as she watched Michael and Charlie get comfortable, the former hiding winces as he adjusted his nephew.

Sam and his Uncle Sam friends had managed to get Michael out of his CIA deal, citing it was their fault the whole situation had gone pear shaped. They agreed to keep Michael on a retainer payment but they weren't allowed to come anywhere near him. Relieved sighs all round.

"… and we brought him here coz I'm not heaving his heavy butt upstairs" Sam finished.

By this time, both uncle and Nephew had fallen asleep and an easy quiet settled over the house. Madeline dug around for paracetamol and ibuprofen for her son while Fiona filled a glass with water for Michael. She tried to wake Charlie without waking Michael but Michael woke up first and gently shook his head. He manoeuvred to take the pills and sip the water before readjusting himself and Charlie and slipping into an easy slumber. Unable to resist, Fiona shifted a piece of hair from Michael's forehead and just stayed where she was, watching the two Westens'.

~!~

The second time Fiona attempted to wake Charlie was when Madeline put him to bed in Michael's old room, thankfully, during which Michael stayed asleep.

Hours later, after Sam had gone home and Madeline to bed herself, Fiona dragged the mattress from the spare room to the lounge and just lay there watching Michael fight an unreal bad guy in his sleep. He bolted upright when she couldn't stand seeing him fight any more and woke him up. His complexion had returned to normal and pain no longer lingered in his eyes. The couple smiled quietly at each other as Fiona held his hand and he drifted back to sleep.

As she stretched out on the mattress she heard…

"Marry me Fi" whispered softly, bright blue eyes, boring into hers.

END


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